Crossroads
by rosabelle317
Summary: [Set immediately post-4.10] Unexpected consequences follow when Sharon finds herself affected by a new case. Meanwhile, Rusty's life also takes an unforeseen turn when Sharon Beck is released from jail. Mostly familyfic with some case stuff and backstory thrown in.
1. Unsettled

**Notes:** This is canon compliant up through 4.10 ("Fifth Dynasty"), but _**THIS IS NOT A SHANDY STORY.**_ It's not. I don't want to mislead anybody. They're going to break up. Canon's handling of the relationship really soured me on it, which is really all I have to say about that. I haven't decided on any future pairings for anyone yet.

I am _also_ really annoyed with canon's refusal to let Rusty grow some self-awareness and instead having him explain the law to actual lawyers and putting him into some kind of bizarre friendship triangle with the brother of the murdered girl he helped identify and the guy who killed her, so we're not doing that here, either.

... it seems also worth noting that I wrote part of this in SChimes' living room while Daughter of Ares and DeereFan were also there, and I am not actually as bitter as I probably sound above because I have met some lovely real-life friends through this fandom so whatever falling out I've had with canon has been worth it.

This first chapter is kind of a prolonged epilogue to "Fifth Dynasty," but chapter two will move away from that into the actual story. Thank you for reading!

 **Crossroads**

 **Chapter I: Unsettled  
**

"I do love you."

Rusty said the words the same way he had the first time—unprompted and looking directly at her, and then he immediately averted his eyes. By the time Sharon processed what she'd just heard, he had turned away from her almost completely, and he was staring too intently out of the car window to see the smile that spread slowly across her face.

 _Rusty_.

"I do know," she said, her voice low. He couldn't know how she felt her heart grow every time he said it, and it was always unexpected when he did. "And you know I love you too. Where's this coming from?"

His answer wasn't what she expected.

"Just—you know, the stuff I said the other day." Rusty tugged at his seatbelt. "I still think it's unfair that Gus can't see Paloma."

"Oh," Sharon said. It took her a moment to shift gears mentally, but Paloma Wallace, now Paloma Hernandez, soon to be Paloma Reyes, had been on Sharon's mind earlier too. "Rusty..."

"But..." Rusty shrugged. "That's different. I don't want you to think that I'm not happy with how _we_ are, because... I am. Happy."

"So am I." She'd put the car into park but left the motor on, to keep the air conditioner running. Sharon glanced at the dashboard clock. They had awhile, and probably longer. "Do you want to talk about this?"

It was a loaded subject at the best of times. In the car across the street from the LA County Jail waiting for his other mother to be released after a year's stay was not the best of times.

To her surprise, Rusty nodded.

"All right." Sharon turned in her seat to face him. "I think it's a little unfair too, to tell you the truth."

"But it was your idea."

"Yes," she said. "Because in _this_ case, the question isn't what's fair to Gus but what's fair to Paloma."

"I don't think it's fair that no one's going to even _ask_ her what she wants," Rusty said. "Like, maybe her new parents are great, but what if she wants to see Gus too?"

"The problem with that is—"

"I know," Rusty said. "There's no guarantee that Gus would get custody of Paloma."

"It's likely the opposite, in fact."

"And I know that," Rusty insisted, despite all of his arguments to the contrary. "I get that. But... it seems like there should be some way that she could stay with her new family and _also_ see Gus. If she wants to."

"I know," Sharon said. "I wish that too."

"When I think about foster care—" He wasn't tugging at the seatbelt so much as gripping it now. "I don't usually think about you."

Sharon nodded.

"I told DCFS things were great," he said, his voice flat and bitter. "They weren't really."

This wasn't something that Rusty rarely talked about. This was something that Rusty _never_ talked about, and whenever Sharon wondered too deeply about that, about what had made his time in foster care a more painful memory than his time on the streets, it made her so angry that it took her breath away.

She wanted him to keep talking, though, so she just hummed quietly in response, and waited.

Rusty shrugged. "Paloma's probably a better kid than I was."

"No," she said sharply. "Rusty—"

"No no, Sharon, I _know_ ," he said. "The people I got, they were assholes. Definitely. But like, I would've been terrible even if they'd given me a good family."

Sharon shook her head.

"You're different," he said. "And I _was_ terrible."

"Not _so_ terrible." He'd only been trying to protect himself. "And you deserved a safe environment regardless."

"I know." Maybe someday, he would say it without hesitating. "I don't think I would've appreciated it, though. Not the way I do now."

"Whether or not you'd have appreciated it isn't the point." Some things, she would tell him once and give him space to think over. Others, she would repeat a thousand times. "Every child—every _person_ , really—deserves a safe space and the security of having their basic needs met. It's what gives us room to grow."

"You think my mom knows that's what you were trying to give her?" he asked. "A safe environment?"

His segues didn't surprise her anymore, and that was less of a jump than she'd come to expect from him.

"I do hope so," she said. Sharon had made her one visit to Sharon Beck and hadn't been back. There wouldn't have been any point. She'd said everything she needed to say that first time, and Sharon Beck had taken the words to heart and behaved herself. If anything, she thought going back would have jeopardized that.

" _I_ know, though," Rusty said. "If she doesn't."

Sharon smiled faintly. "I'm glad."

"I know, at first..." He shrugged. "It was hard, seeing her here. But now I feel like... maybe jail was the safest place for her."

"Yes." Sharon cleared her throat. Part of her had always mourned, whenever Jack had gone to rehab. But she had started sleeping through the nights again, instead of lying awake, beyond exhausted yet unable to sleep for wondering if tonight would be the night that she finally got the call that there had been an accident, that Jack had gone and killed himself or someone else.

"What if she disappears again?" She'd been wondering when he would start fidgeting. "She _says_ she won't, but she says a lot of things. I think she's still mad at me."

She could see him going through a list of all his transgressions in his mind. He hadn't helped his mother find drugs and when she'd found them herself, he hadn't bailed her out of jail. He hadn't been angry enough that she'd had to spend a year behind bars. He hadn't visited enough. But most of all, he'd let Sharon adopt him.

She didn't regret that, not for a moment, and she knew that Rusty didn't, either, but it still broke her heart, knowing that his other mother had used his own happiness to wound him.

"Your mother will do whatever she's going to do," she said finally, listening to him huff to himself. "And it will have _nothing_ to do with you. That's the best that I can tell you."

"It's just, she's sober right now," Rusty said. "She hasn't been sober for this long since I was like, _ten_. And I think she even wants to stay that way, but all she'd have to do is talk to one of her friends from before, or decide she wants to meet a guy, or—or she could keep stealing. She's stolen stuff before."

He stopped, his eyes sliding sideways. He was always anxious when he confessed to her the specifics of his mother's behavior.

"I know," he said, slumping down in his seat. "Don't say anything."

Sharon touched his shoulder instead, squeezing hard. That would have to somehow say everything that she would like to tell him. Rusty turned to look at her.

"Look, Sharon, if you need to work, you can just, you know—"

"What, and leave you here?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. And... to be honest with you, Rusty, after our last case... I needed a personal day."

Her grief over everything that had come up during her investigation into Chandler Ryan's murder was still only half-processed.

There was a marked hesitation before Rusty said, "I didn't know she was your friend."

"She was a very good friend, for a time." Sharon rubbed her forehead. "I had no idea about, ah, a lot of things."

"Yeah."

There were moments when she felt at peace. Then there was the rest of the time. Sharon thought she'd moved past anger. She and Ginny hadn't been close in years and she'd never met Chandler herself, but... she'd seen photos in the odd Christmas card here and there, and she was just... sad. For everything.

"I met her in college," she said. "She and Jack and I studied for the LSAT together. Then—" She waved a hand and shrugged. He knew that story already. "She and Jack graduated from UCLA law the same year." Sharon had still been planning to go to law school then, after the baby was born, after Jack was settled in at work. Ginny had promised to mentor her through it.

She wondered if Jack had heard yet. Probably.

"So she's been your friend, like, _fifty_ years."

It took her a moment to realize he was teasing her.

"Sixty," she said, and Rusty snorted. Sharon's smile faded. "Almost forty years, and she was always so _vocal_ about there being no excuses and consequences and so on. I never expected..." But Chandler was Ginny's only child, and Sharon knew how hard it could be, as a parent, to insist that her children own up to the wrong things that they had done. If, God forbid, any of them had committed a crime... She would have gotten them the best lawyer she could afford. She would have visited them in prison. She would have loved them regardless. But she wouldn't have covered it up.

"What matters now is that she is no longer my friend." She would miss the person she'd thought Ginny had been, but she couldn't reconcile the woman she'd known with the one who would bury child molestation.

"Does she know that?"

"I think it's safe to say she has some idea," she said. When she was really unhappy about something, people never had to ask. Sharon gave Rusty a sideways look. "Speaking of friends..."

"No, okay?" Rusty fidgeted. "I haven't talked to TJ yet."

Of course he hadn't. "The longer you wait, the harder it will be."

"I _know_ , Sharon."

"So what's taking you?" She tried to say it gently, but a wounded look crossed Rusty's face nonetheless. Sharon sighed.

"Can't we talk about this later?"

"Yes," Sharon relented. Now really wasn't the time. "But we _will_ talk."

He'd been dodging the subject for a week. Sharon was trying to be patient and let him work it out on his own, but... things were reaching a point where Rusty could use some more direct guidance. She knew her son. He was very good at avoiding situations that made him uncomfortable, and then he persisted in thinking that he could avoid them _forever_ , and then they inevitably blew up in his face.

"Fine." Rusty slumped down in his seat some more. "But tomorrow."

She was surprised he hadn't suggested they sit down on a Friday forty years from now. "Tomorrow's good."

She wasn't without sympathy. Apologies weren't easy to make. But they were also necessary.

Sharon patted his shoulder again, light and reassuring so that he would know she wasn't angry.

Rusty gave her a fleeting smile, and then he huddled closer to his door and lowered his chin. "She'll be out soon, won't she?"

The excitement in his voice was still evenly balanced with apprehension.

"She should be."

"Right." Rusty shifted in his seat. "Sharon? I think I'm gonna go wait out there."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He stared down at his hands, balling them into unhappy fists. "I haven't decided what I'm going to say to her yet."

"Ah."

"But..." His expression softened into a plea. "You'll wait, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised. "Don't worry about that. Take your time."

"Right." He almost said something else. Sharon didn't know what, but his mouth opened and closed before he changed his mind and said only, "I'll just—um, I'll be out there, then."

"It could still be awhile," Sharon reminded him. "The process takes some time. Don't get too worried if she takes longer than you think she should, okay?"

He nodded, and then he got out of the car.

Sharon watched him walk away.

He didn't go far, and he didn't go in. He'd been clear about that. He was going to wait for her outside, and he was going to talk to her for a couple of minutes, and then he was going to tell her he'd see her when she had time and let her find her own way to the halfway house. She would have to find her own way, if she was going to stay clean and sober.

Sharon hoped that she had it in her.

Across the street, Rusty paced for awhile. He hovered near the pay phones, crossing and uncrossing his arms. He retied his shoelaces twice. He pulled out his phone and played with it. Every so often, he looked back at her.

Sharon smiled at him whenever he did, but she thought he was past the point of feeling reassurances now.

Rusty ran a hand through his hair and studied his phone some more.

It wasn't as long as Sharon thought it might be. Twenty minutes later, Sharon Beck walked out of LA County Jail into the hug Rusty had waited a year to give her. Sharon watched from the car. From where she sat, she couldn't tell if Rusty had found the right words to say to his mother or not, and his back was to her so she couldn't see his face. But she could see clearly how tightly he held onto her, and that said a great deal.

When she pulled away, Sharon Beck brought her hands up to cup his face, and she smiled and said something that made Rusty nod.

Sharon watched, uneasy.


	2. Monday

**Notes:** Thank you for your comments on the first chapter! I want to say, again, that this isn't a Shandy story but I want to be fair to both Sharon and Andy here.

 **Crossroads**

 **Chapter II: Monday**

There was something about Mondays.

The sort of Mondays that followed a terrible week were the best sort of Mondays.

Sharon liked the freshness they brought, the sense of waking up well-rested and beginning again. A full night's sleep was sometimes a luxury. She liked best the ones when she woke before her alarm, and had a few quiet moments to herself, to revise the to-do lists that she composed in her head.

The lists were soothing too. She liked the satisfaction of crossing things off one by one, and she'd accomplished everything she'd meant to that weekend. The bathroom was clean, the laundry was done, she'd finally taken care of the dry cleaning piling up in her closet, and there were groceries in the kitchen.

There was distance between her and the grief of last week. She'd stopped dwelling on Ginny and Chandler Ryan, and Sharon Beck hadn't done anything reckless in her first few days as a free woman. She knew better than to hope that would last forever, but in the meantime, Rusty was okay.

She'd even managed to squeeze in a quick dinner with Andy the night before. It would have been nicer if they'd had time to linger, but he'd been expected at Nicole's in time for a movie night before the kids went to bed so they'd had to make it fast. It had been a warm evening. They'd had salad and gazpacho out on her balcony. They'd talked as they ate. He'd made her laugh. She'd enjoyed herself.

And yet.

There was... something. Something that she knew she wanted to be feeling, but wasn't. Yet.

Sharon closed her eyes again. That je ne sais quoi would come in time. It had been awhile (more than awhile, really) since Jack, and none of her relationships before him had been all that serious. Still, she remembered how these things went in the beginning. There was that period of nervous uncertainty, which she hated. That was the price that had to be paid for the parts that she enjoyed, the slowly deepening intimacy of conversations and the careful exploration of someone else's heart and soul.

She needed to remember that, because otherwise, she was so unsettlingly _aware_ of everything as this friendship with Andy evolved into something else.

She shifted in bed, wiggling until her neck rested on the pillow just the way that she wanted it to.

The phone rang a split second after her alarm went off.

Sharon stretched one arm out to the side as she reached for it without turning her head. She set it in the same place on her nightstand every night to charge. The alarm silenced as she answered.

"Good morning, Lieutenant."

"Captain." Provenza hadn't been brought his coffee yet; his voice was still low with sleep. "Hope I didn't wake you."

He knew he hadn't. "It's all right," she said. "I was awake. What do we have?"

It wouldn't be an emergency, if he'd waited to call until after she was awake.

"Looks like another burglary," Provenza told her. "Only this one went sideways. Husband and wife dead. Neighbor called it in. Sykes is talking to her now."

"That was Robbery-Homicide's case, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he said dryly. "And now it's _our_ case."

"Ah." Sharon closed her eyes. "Do you have things under control, Lieutenant?"

"Take your time," he said. "Have some breakfast. Maybe take a morning stroll. We'll be here awhile."

"I'll meet you back at the office, then," she said. "Call me if you run into any problems."

There was a knock on the door connecting her room to the bathroom as soon as she hung up. Sharon turned over onto her side, sighing. "Come in," she called. "It's all right."

Rusty opened the door, but didn't step inside. He rarely did. "Oh," he said, freezing when he saw her still in bed. "I thought I heard you on the phone."

"I was awake," she reassured him. "What's up?"

"Are you in a hurry?" he asked. "Did you get a case?"

"We did," she said, studying him. He hadn't been awake long. There was a pillow mark still on his cheek, and his hair was a mess. "But I'm not in a hurry. What did you need?"

"A shower." He rubbed sleep from his eyes. "I didn't want to turn on the water if you were still asleep."

"Well, thank you for that," she said, smiling at him. There was a reason he was supposed to shower at night, _before_ she went to bed. "You shower. I'll make breakfast for both of us."

"You sure?"

"There are some perks to being the boss," she said. "Go."

She put extra cheese in his eggs and made him an extra slice of bacon. There was a conversation they were overdue for, and he was receptive to bribery... Besides, it was his first day of classes. She'd always liked giving her kids a little treat on the first day of school.

She was buttering the last slice of toast when Rusty wandered into the dining room. His hair was wet and he was barefoot, but he was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt and looked relatively alert.

"Hey," she said. "I hope you're hungry."

He made a face at her and yawned, so Sharon smiled and set his plate in front of him without saying anything. She'd let him wake up a little more.

"Eat," she said, and went back to the kitchen for her tea.

Two slices of toast and half a glass of orange juice later, he remembered to thank her for breakfast.

"You're welcome," she said, studying him over the rim of her mug. Now was the time. "What are you doing after school?"

"I dunno." Rusty reached for a slice of bacon. "There's one book I still need to buy—no no, I _know_ , Sharon, but like, the professor, he only emailed the syllabus to us last _night_ and—" He calmed down when her mouth turned up into a smile. "But like, the lines are gonna be really long today so I might do that tomorrow instead."

"Will they be any shorter then?"

"I dunno," he said again. "Maybe."

Sharon doubted that, but she supposed as long as he got the book before the next class meeting... and it gave her an opening. "Well," she said evenly. "Since you have some free time this afternoon, why don't you give TJ a call?"

Rusty stopped eating. "Sharon."

"Look," she said. "I don't know everything that happened between the two of you, but you didn't treat him the way that you should have, and I know you feel badly about that. Right?"

"Well... yeah, but—"

"So," she pressed on, because she knew he wanted to justify his way out of it and they didn't have all day.

"Have you given any thought yet to how you might phrase your apology?"

Rusty's shoulders slumped.

"You _do_ know you have to apologize."

"No," he said. "Yeah. I mean, I know."

"Okay," she said. That was a start. "I'll help you. Do you have a clear idea of where you went wrong?"

"Yeah." Rusty fidgeted, turning a crust of toast between his fingers. "I was a jerk to him. And he thinks I used him. And took advantage of him. And like, he was still really _nice_ to me. He was mad, but he still showed up to make sure Gus wasn't dangerous... Oh." He gave her a guilty look. "I think he's mad too that I let Gus think that Mariana was alive, and... Can't I just say I'm sorry I was a jerk? It kind of covers everything."

"That can be your opening," she said. "He might appreciate you owning up to the specifics."

"I don't know about that," Rusty said. "He sounded pretty clear about not wanting to hear from me again."

"It's up to you to apologize," Sharon said. "It's up to him to decide if he wants to accept it. Say you're sorry, but don't hound him. If he wants to talk to you, he will."

"What if he doesn't?" His voice was smaller now, and he stared at his plate.

"Then... at least you'll know that you tried to make things right," she said. It was the best she could offer him. "And next time, you'll know how to do better."

"Maybe."

"You don't think so?"

"It just feels like—I don't know." Rusty shrugged. "Like every time I get close to someone, something happens."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Rusty pushed his empty plate away and stood. "I gotta finish getting ready, okay?"

"Okay," she allowed.

At least he put his plate in the dishwasher before he ran off.

Sharon leaned back slightly in her chair and sipped at her tea. She wasn't entirely sure that Rusty understood that friendship was a learned skill like anything else, and that he wasn't really doing so badly. He'd started later than his peers but he'd get there, she was sure of it.

She was just finishing her tea when her phone rang again. Lost in her thoughts as she was, the sudden vibration against her thigh made her jump. Sharon pulled the phone out from the pocket of her robe, pausing to smile at the name that flashed across the caller ID before she answered and even though Rusty was away and down the hall, she lowered her voice before speaking. "It's good to hear from you."

"Yeah, uh—you too." She could tell from the timbre of Andy's voice that this wasn't a personal call. "How are you?"

Sharon set down her tea. "What's the matter?"

She heard him sigh. "Listen, we have a little problem with the witness."

"What _kind_ of problem?"

"She could be a killer."

Sharon frowned. "Well, that's not unusual."

"No," Andy said. "Not _the_ killer. Different case, about twenty years back. Tao worked the scene when he was with SID. Her name rang a bell."

"Oh." Sharon rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "That does complicate things."

"Tell me about it."

"Okay," she said. "I'll be there soon as I can—have someone find the file from the first murder—"

"Disappearance, technically," he said. "Body was never found."

She didn't like the sound of that, either. Sharon always wanted to wrap her cases up as neat and tidily as she possibly could. Already there were too many loose ends for her comfort.

"Disappearance, then," she said. "Advise her—what's the name of our witness?"

"Uh..." There was a pause. "Marks. Jennifer Marks."

"Please advise Ms. Marks of her rights and bring her downtown. I'm on my way now."

"Got it." Another pause. "I'll... see you soon, I guess."

"See you soon," she said, and hung up.

Then, sighing, she downed the rest of her tea in one gulp and headed down the hall. The bathroom door was locked. She knocked. "Are you dressed?" When Rusty took longer than two seconds replying, she knocked again, sharply. "Rusty?"

"Yeah," he called.

"May I come in?" She hadn't foreseen the need for two bathrooms, but at least she had two sinks.

More silence.

"Rusty."

"Yes," he finally called. "Sure. Whatever."

He was staring intently at his reflection when she opened the door, combing his bangs at very precise angles.

"What's the big deal, anyway?" he grumbled, clearly unhappy that she'd barged in. Rusty was particular about his hair. It had taken six months of carefully worded inquiries before he'd let anyone touch the too-long hair he'd come to her with, but even right from the beginning, he had showered and shampooed it at least once a day. "You said you weren't in a hurry."

"I am now."

"What about all those perks of being the boss?"

"Mm," she said, pointing him towards the door. "There are also drawbacks."

" _Obviously._ "

She tried not to smile too much when he huffed at her. "Five minutes," she promised, with a more insistent shooing motion towards the door.

He went, complaining all the way, but he _did_ go, and left Sharon to take the world's quickest shower.

Times like these were why she liked to plan her outfits the night before, when she didn't have to rush and could take the time to make sure she looked the way that she wanted to. It was also why she liked to keep certain staples in her wardrobe. There was no red dress that wouldn't pair with a black blazer. She just wished it were cool enough to wear the boots Emily had gotten her last Christmas. They were so much more comfortable than her heels.

She was drying her hair when she heard Rusty in the hall. "Shaaaaron. You said _five_ minutes."

There were some things she didn't miss about teenagers. But she was dressed, and she'd rather share the bathroom with him than listen to him whine from the other side of the door while she did her makeup.

She set down the blow dryer. "You can come in."

" _Finally_."

There was no heat in his glare, though, and he went back to his hair without further comment. He was wearing a blue plaid over the t-shirt now, and there were shoes on his feet.

Hiding a smile, Sharon reached for her tube of primer. She'd mastered the art of speedy makeup application decades ago, when stepping away for more than two minutes meant she'd return to find Ricky and Emily "ice skating" across the kitchen floor with butter on their feet. It was a skill that had come in handy countless times since then.

She checked herself after to be sure her eyes looked right (Emily always teased her about wearing too much eye shadow, but Sharon liked the dramatic effect) and fluffed her hair a few times.

"Okay," she said, touching Rusty's shoulder. "I have to go. If I'm not back in time, go ahead and eat dinner without me."

He glanced at her in the mirror, but continued agonizing over the precise placement of every hair on his head. "Okay."

"Have a good first day of school."

"Okay," he said. "I will."

"Call TJ," she said. "I mean it."

" _Okay."_

"Text him, whichever. Just _do_ it." She smoothed his collar before she took her hand away. "You look very nice. Blue brings out your eyes."

He wrinkled his nose—she wasn't the person he wanted to hear that from, clearly—but it got a half-smile out of him despite the eyerolling that followed, and he mumbled a thank you.

Ducking out of the bathroom, Sharon went to get her shoes and her purse. She spied the boots in her closet when she opened it to grab her heels, and she wished again that she could wear them. She was almost tempted to, in spite of the heat. She had a feeling that it was going to be a long day.


	3. Muddled

**Notes:** I don't usually write case stuff so that's been slowing me down a little, but I hope it's not _too_ boring. Thank you for reading! :)

 **Crossroads**

 **Chapter III: Muddled**

Sharon was right.

It was going to be a long, long day.

By ten, they were all gathered in the murder room. Their two victims had been transported back to Dr. Morales for examination and autopsy. Amy and Julio were sifting through Alan and Vicki Reese's financial records, while Lieutenant Tao read through their emails and Provenza leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced behind his head as he studied the white board with narrowed eyes. Andy was in electronics with Buzz, keeping an eye on their witness.

Kendall had reported one gunshot to the head of each victim. Sharon could see that for herself in the photos. There were other photos, too, of the blank spot over the mantel where the television had been, of the desk drawers that had been emptied, of the mess that had been left behind.

Leaning her hip against Andy's vacant desk, Sharon studied the DMV photos instead.

Alan worked in real estate; Vicki was an accountant. Plenty of motives there, Provenza had observed dryly. They were comfortable, but not extraordinarily wealthy. Both were in their mid-fifties. In his early twenties, Alan had once had his driver's license suspended for speeding, but neither had a criminal record. They had two sons, both in college. There was nothing out of the ordinary about either of their lives that Sharon had been able to discern so far.

Then there was the matter of their witness.

Sharon read through the file in her hands, familiarizing herself with the older case. On the face of things, there were no similarities. One, a disappearance, nothing reported stolen. The other, a robbery turned murder. All they had in common was a name.

Still, it was something they had to pursue.

"Tell me about this witness, Lieutenant," Sharon said. "Jennifer Marks."

"It was Robbery-Homicide's investigation," Tao said. "I just processed the evidence. Chief Taylor probably remembers more."

"And I'm sure he'll be along any minute now to tell us that," Provenza said dryly. Amy snickered, and Sharon looked down at the file in her hands to hide a smile. "But _before_ he gets here..."

"It was back in ninety-six," he said. "Regina Torres, a third-grade teacher, was last seen alive leaving Lincoln Elementary just after three-thirty in the afternoon on Tuesday, September third. Her girlfriend—that would be Ms. Marks—said she came home around seven in the evening. The car was there, but there was no sign of Ms. Torres. She made the first call to police around ten that night. Once Ms. Torres was officially missing, we investigated."

"And what did you find?"

"Regina Torres wasn't killed in her home or her car," Tao said. "We found nothing in the home to suggest that either she or Ms. Marks were having an affair, and nothing suspicious came up in either location. Nothing in emails or phone records, either."

"So there was never any evidence to suggest that Ms. Marks _actually_ killed anyone," Sharon said.

"Or that Ms. Torres was actually dead," Tao said.

"Well, she's dead _now_ ," Sharon said, still browsing through the file. "Legally. Ms. Torres's family had her declared dead. Still, let's not jump to any conclusions—but Ms. Marks _is_ our only witness to the murders of Mr. and Mrs. Reese, so we do need to talk to her, and—oh," she said, pausing. "Ms. Marks was six months pregnant at the time of Ms. Torres's disappearance?"

That didn't mean that she hadn't done it, but... it was another complication.

Sharon tried not to sigh. "Mike, if you would."

Tao nodded.

"Amy, Julio, keep looking through the Reese's financials," she went on. "Let me know if anything unusual turns up. Lieutenant..." Sharon turned to look at Provenza. "Let's hold off on notifying the family until we know more. You and Andy check in with Dr. Morales, see what his preliminary findings are. Then start looking through these files that Robbery-Homicide sent over on the other home invasions and see if there are any similarities to the Reese's case."

A string of ongoing home invasions, and a decades-old cold case. Sharon didn't like either.

"Right," she said, closing the file and straightening up. "Let's get to work."

* * *

In his favorite corner of the library (the one with no other people around), Rusty hunched over the desk and fiddled around with his phone, scrolling through Facebook as a sort of mental compromise between apologizing to TJ and ignoring it for another day.

His phone was out. He was warming up to it.

Rusty scowled.

Sharon was usually right, but... It wasn't like he was trying to get out of telling TJ that he was sorry or anything like that, but Rusty had been hurt by a lot of people. He was pretty sure that he never wanted to hear from any of them again in his life, even for an apology. Especially for an apology.

In his head, he could hear Sharon's voice telling him that this thing with TJ was different and Rusty kind of got that, but the little Sharon in his brain didn't tell him _how_ it was different and he wished that she would.

He could ask his real Sharon later and he knew she'd explain, but first _he_ would have to explain. She'd understand, probably, where he was coming from—she usually did—but he knew it'd make her sad. The vlog was good for him. It made him more open, and there was a lot more that he was comfortable sharing of himself than before he'd started. But Sharon didn't watch the vlog, and Sharon _knew_ him, and Sharon was his _mom_ , and... it was different, talking to her face to face, than to some unseen audience. It was embarrassing for him, and it made her sad for him.

Rusty thought he'd rather just apologize to TJ now and ask Sharon later if it didn't work out the way she seemed to think it would.

But that left him with having to apologize to TJ, and in order to do that, he had to _think_ about TJ, and thinking about TJ made him feel pretty crappy because he knew what it felt like to be used and lied to. He hadn't _meant_ to make TJ feel that way, but... somehow, he had. He didn't like what that said about him.

Rusty stared at his phone. Suddenly, _sorry I was a jerk_ didn't feel like enough.

It was all that he could bring himself to say.

What made him feel worse was how tempted he was to just not apologize at all, to just let TJ forget about him and move on, because part of him knew that he'd been a jerk because he hadn't wanted TJ to like him. He hadn't wanted TJ to get close, because when people got close, they got _too_ close, and Rusty thought TJ liked him differently than he liked TJ.

But that wasn't TJ's _fault_ , exactly, and he still hadn't deserved for Rusty to use him the way that he had.

Still, he hesitated for what felt like a very long time before he added, _you're a really great person and a good friend. I never wanted to hurt you._

It was just, he'd gotten so wrapped up Alice and then when he'd told TJ the whole story, he'd just... assumed... that TJ wanted to help because he cared about _Alice_. He hadn't realized that TJ cared about _him_ until it was too late, and by then, TJ had _really_ cared about him, and... really, it would be _so_ much easier to never talk to TJ again.

Except he did really _like_ TJ, and if he could just make TJ not _want_ him... it would be nice to have a friend.

But for some reason, _every_ time he thought he made a friend, _this_ happened. He wondered if he was doing something wrong. First there'd been Tyler, the boy in his chess club back at St. Joseph's. Then there had been Kris, and now TJ.

Jeff had been different. Maybe Rusty had liked Jeff because Jeff _hadn't_ been into him, and that made him safe to like.

That seemed messed up, to only be into people who didn't like him.

Rusty ran a hand through his hair.

See, this was all the stuff he _hadn't_ wanted to think about.

He and Dr. Joe had talked a little about that, during the Jeff thing. About how Rusty experienced as an act of aggression what for most people was normal, about desire not being something he needed to feel guilty about, about all kinds of other things that Rusty hadn't really wanted to talk about but was sort of glad that he had, now, because forcing himself through the embarrassment of it was worth it to not feel as terrible about himself today.

So... he wanted something with someone, but he didn't want it with TJ and he didn't want it today. And, probably, he should have just said that.

... which, he remembered suddenly, was pretty much the exact advice Sharon had given him when he was seventeen and trying to figure out how to handle the Kris situation.

Fine.

So Sharon had been right about that too.

Rusty checked his phone, but TJ hadn't answered yet.

He wasn't sure that he wanted TJ to respond immediately, either, because then _he_ would have to... _do_ something about TJ's response, probably, but he didn't like the waiting, either.

With one more glare at his phone, he shoved it into his pocket and began gathering up his notebooks. Maybe the second half of US history would take his mind off of that.

* * *

Before sitting down with her witness, Sharon ducked briefly into electronics.

"Hey, Captain."

"Hello, Buzz. Andy." She smiled at them both. "How's Ms. Marks doing?"

"You mean, has she spontaneously confessed to murdering anyone?" Buzz said dryly, and Sharon's smile widened. "No. She's just fidgeting a lot. She made a few phone calls."

Sharon leaned closer, a hand resting on the back of each chair as she peered at the monitors. "Do we know who to?"

"One to work," Andy said. "Told them she wouldn't be coming in."

"And the other?"

"To someone named 'hi, honey'," Buzz informed her.

Sharon swallowed back her laugh. "Thank you, gentlemen," she said, her hand sliding over the back of Andy's chair to brush against his shoulder. "Andy, Mike and I will take it from here—Provenza will fill you in on what I need you to do."

"Sure thing," he said. "We'll catch up with you later."

"Thank you." She gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. "I'll be in there in just a minute, Buzz."

"Here you are."

He handed Sharon her earbud. She slid it into place as she left the electronics room, fluffing her hair back into shape with one hand.

Tao was waiting for her in the hallway, and he fell into step beside her on the way to the interview room.

The woman inside wore her glasses like a headband. When they entered, she stopped pacing and righted her glasses, pushing them up the bridge of her nose with a fingertip.

"Are you the captain?"

"Ms. Marks." Sharon extended her hand. "Thank you for coming in today. I'm Captain Raydor, and this is Lieutenant Tao. We're sorry to have kept you waiting."

"I—no, it's no problem." Jennifer shook both of their hands, then, still standing, ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes. "I want to help."

"We'll try to have you out of here as soon as possible." Sharon indicated the seat. "We just have a couple of questions."

"The Reeses," Tao said. "Did you know them well?"

"We were... friendly, I guess," Jennifer said. She sat slowly, tapping her fingers against the tabletop as she thought. "We weren't close, but they'd have barbecues sometimes. My wife and I, we'd go. We'd babysit for each other, when our kids were all younger. Haley—our daughter—they paid her to check in on their house when they went on vacation. Walk the dog, bring in the mail, things like that. That's how I knew something was wrong today. The dog."

"How do you mean?" Sharon asked.

"Peanut was on my front porch when I went to leave for work," she said. "I thought she'd just gotten out, you know? I was going to just walk her home, but when I saw the door was open a little, I just, I had this feeling. And then, when I pushed the door open..."

She shook her head. "I'm a nurse," she said. "I knew they were dead. There was no way... But I had to try."

It had been far too late to save anyone, but Jennifer Marks had done an excellent job of contaminating the crime scene. Sharon pressed her lips together. Her training dictated that she had to be suspicious, just as Jennifer's dictated that she'd had to try.

Sharon still didn't like it.

"This is important, Jennifer," she said. "Did you touch anything else in the house?"

"No," she said. "I... just the door, I think."

'Thank you," Sharon said. She exchanged a look with Tao, giving him a slight nod to proceed.

"And the bodies," he said. "Did you move them at all?"

"A little," she said. "I touched them both, looking for a pulse."

"But you didn't roll them over?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No, they were both lying like that when I found them."

"We know you've been through something like this before," he said. "We're sorry to put you through it again.'

The woman's head came up, the slightly dazed look that Sharon saw on so many witnesses disappearing and her expression solidifying into something steely and stoic.

"Wait wait wait." Jennifer Marks held up both hands and shook her head. "If you're going to be asking me about Genie, I'm calling a lawyer."


	4. Again

**Notes:** Hello again! Sorry it's been awhile. I've been busy and then either felt like writing nothing or like writing everything at once, but I've been liking Hindsight a lot more than I thought I would and that's been motivating. (Speaking of Hindsight, if I'd known what names they were going to use I would have chosen a different one for this story. Oops.)

 **Crossroads**

 **Chapter IV: Again**

When Rusty felt his phone buzz four times during class, he assumed TJ was getting back to him. That made him uncomfortably hot, guilt and anxiety pricking up his spine and across his scalp. He hadn't expected TJ to have _that_ much to say... Four text messages was a lot of pissed off, and he knew that he kind of—okay, _more_ than kind of—deserved it, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to reading it.

His concentration was pretty much shot after that. Luckily, like his psych teacher that morning, his history professor chose to make the first day a painfully prolonged reading of the syllabus while he stressed the importance of punctual attendance and regular participation. Which, _obviously_.

Rusty slouched down in his seat, and when class was dismissed half an hour early, he was the first one out the door.

That was his last class of the day, so he headed for the parking lot as a way to delay having to deal with TJ. He'd look once he had the privacy of his car.

Once there, he swung his backpack from his shoulders into the passenger seat, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

It wasn't TJ.

At first, that annoyed him. Was his apology not good enough for TJ, or something? What else was he supposed to _say_?

Then he remembered that he wanted to avoid TJ for awhile longer, and the sting lessened.

The first text was from Gus.

 _I got back to Vegas last night. I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me and Mariana and Paloma. Is it okay if I call you sometime?_

Rusty hadn't expected to hear from Mariana's brother again. He'd thought that... he didn't know what he'd thought. That Gus would go home and go on with his life. Except that his life had been about finding his sisters, and he'd done that, and he hadn't found what he'd wanted to. So what was there to go back to?

Not much, Rusty was guessing, but that didn't explain why Gus wanted to keep in touch with him. He'd never met Paloma, and he'd only known Mariana after she'd died.

Rusty wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't answer.

He didn't recognize the other number, but they seemed to know him.

 _Rusty_

 _I need to talk to you_

 _Rusty?_

There was only one person that could reasonably be, and Rusty stared at the phone for a long time.

On one hand, his mother was reaching out to him.

On the other hand, his mother _wanted_ something from him. The last favor she'd asked for had been that he come up with five hundred dollars for her. That was a year ago now. He was over it, mostly. As long as he didn't remember it, and as long as he didn't think about how Sharon and everyone else who mattered knew about it.

He was thinking about it now, though, which didn't especially make him feel like calling her back to see what she wanted.

Was she even allowed to have a cell phone? He couldn't remember, and he didn't want to get her into trouble, either.

She called back, though. It was like he'd told Sharon that one night, after he'd walked away from her for the first time. When she wanted something, she always called back.

He might as well get it over with.

Steeling himself, Rusty answered the call. "Hello?"

"Hi, honey."

"Hey, Mom."

"Where are you?" she asked.

"It's the first day of school, remember?" But then, she'd never been great about keeping track of that.

"Right," she said. "Right, right. I remember. How'd it go?"

"It was okay, I guess." He figured that was about as much as she was interested in hearing about his day. "I just got out of my history class. I'm going home now."

"Home," she repeated. "Right."

There was an odd note in her voice, but he didn't feel guilty that home was where Sharon was.

"Oh, baby," she said. "I wish I could hear all about it, but I... but Rusty..."

"What's the matter?"

His mother was quiet for a long time. "I need to tell you something," she said. "And I need you to hear me out, okay? Okay, honey?"

"Mom?"

"I love you," she said. For awhile that was _all_ she said, and Rusty gripped the phone tighter as he waited for her to go on. "You've always been such a good kid."

Rusty held his breath, feeling tears pricking at his eyes without warning. She hadn't said _that_ since... he couldn't even remember. That was the kind of stuff that Sharon told him.

"You—this last year, the way you visited me... it meant a lot," she said. "You helped me get through it."

"You're my mom," he said.

"And you're my baby," she said. "You never should've had to take care of me. I should've taken care of _you_ , and leaving you, the way I did... I did think about you. I did, all the time. I missed you."

"I missed you too." Rusty swallowed. The knot in his throat was expanding. He would've given anything to hear her say these things once. Now, part of him wanted her to stop talking. He didn't want to cry in his car.

"Rusty," his mother said quietly. "Honey. You're my baby, and I love you."

There wasn't supposed to be a "but," there.

"But—" There it was. "It's—there are some things that... don't get _mad_ , honey. But... I had a lot of time in jail. To think, and I really did think about things, and my life, and you, and... I had this whole plan once. When you were born, I thought we were all each other needed. I thought I'd just know what to do with you. But I didn't, and I'm sorry now I never learned."

Rusty tried to think of a time when she'd owned up to anything like this, and he couldn't. Maybe she was doing better than he'd thought.

He still couldn't loosen the hold his fingers had on his phone.

"I hurt you," she said, quietly, sadly. "I wish I could take that back, but I can't."

It was only now, as she said it, that Rusty realized that _he_ didn't wish it anymore. Or, he did, but he didn't.

He wished a lot of things hadn't happened. He wished his mom hadn't left him, and he wished she hadn't been high all the time. He wished that he hadn't had to deal with Gary beating the crap out of him all the time, and he really wished that he hadn't spent so much time in secluded stretches of Griffith Park with men like Douglas Grand (who hadn't been so bad, really, compared to some of the others), and he wished that fewer people had tried to kill him.

But he didn't wish that he was someone else anymore, either, and he didn't see any other way that he would've ended up where he was now if all of that hadn't happened.

"It's okay, Mom," he said. "We don't... we can just not..."

"But that's the thing, though, honey," she said. "I can't just pretend that it didn't happen anymore. I wish I could do that too."

So did he, because all of that peace he'd been feeling a second ago was becoming a little shaky.

"What are you saying, Mom?"

"Just that... I want to get it right this time," she told him. "I really do, and I'm learning how to deal with all of the things that made me want to escape. Because that's what I was trying to do, and I get that now. I really do, honey, I swear."

"That's a good thing, though, isn't it?" There was something else. There had to be, because whenever his mother told him not to get mad, nothing good followed.

"It's just that..." He heard her draw in a breath. "You—I mean, not _you_ , but—whenever I think too much about you, I want to forget."

There it all went. All of his calm evaporated, and in an instant he was back in her room at the rehab place, listening to her hurl insults at him.

" _I_ am _not_ the reason you use drugs." His voice only wavered once, but if he held the phone any harder it might break.

"I wasn't _saying_ that Rusty. God." She was probably rolling her eyes at him. "Just—just _listen_ to me, okay? Listen to what I'm saying."

"Fine," he said tightly. "I'm listening."

"It's not your fault," she said. "But I want to be sober, and I don't think that I can do that with you around because you remind me too much of who I used to be."

"So... what," he said. "You're leaving again?"

"I'm not _going_ anywhere." She was starting to sound frustrated now. "I'm still going to stay at the halfway house. And when I leave, I'll let you know where I am. I just... I need some time for me."

"You're leaving again." Rusty clenched his jaw. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a tear slide down his cheek despite his resolve. "Fine."

"No, Rusty—"

"God, why do you even bother?" he said, angrily swiping his palm against his cheek.

"Rusty, listen—"

"No, _you_ listen." He was shouting now, but the parking garage was full of people who were in a hurry to get to class and no one was paying any attention to him. "You can't just come and go whenever you want. You can't use me. You can't just be my mom when you feel like it."

"But I'm not your mom anymore, am I?" she said quietly. "That's what you have _her_ for."

He shouldn't say it. Rusty knew that he shouldn't, even as he was opening his mouth. He was too old, and this wasn't like all of the times that he'd yelled at Sharon. But the fear and the confusion just kept bubbling out of him, and right now, he was too hurt to care. "You know what, maybe you're right," he said. "Sharon's a better mom than you ever were, and if you don't wanna be around, that's fine because I don't need you anymore."

Sharon would be disappointed in him if she were here. He knew that. It wasn't like before, when they'd sat in the car outside of the jail and he'd told her that he didn't need his mom. He was saying it now just because he wanted to hurt her the way that he was hurting right now, and the only thing that Sharon ever wanted from him was that he be kind.

On the other end of the phone, his mother let out a shaky breath.

Now he'd made _her_ cry.

That made him feel great.

"I'm sorry." He was doing a lot of that today. "Mom, I'm sorry."

"It's better this way, though, you know?" she said. "You've got someone to take care of you while I'm gone. I know you'll be okay, so I can just work on me. I want to get it right this time."

She'd said that the last time too, and she'd promised him before that she would quit. She'd tried going cold turkey and she'd tried cutting back slowly, but neither had worked very well and then after awhile, she'd been too far gone to care.

Dumping him the first time hadn't seemed to help, either.

"Rusty?"

"I'm still here." He closed his eyes.

"I'll miss you," she said. "And... I'll call you sometimes, to let you know how I'm doing. If you want me to."

"Fine," he said. "If you want to."

Except that he _did_ want her to, because now that she was actually leaving him again, he felt less sure about not needing her than he had when she was only _probably_ going to leave him again. He didn't need her to take care of him, he was sure of that, but he didn't want to have to wonder about her again.

That had been the worst part, the wondering. All of that time spent not knowing if she was even alive or dead, asking himself what he'd done to make her leave, and trying to figure out ow he could possibly find her. For three years, he'd done that.

He hadn't realized until she'd come back and he hadn't had to wonder anymore just how much time he'd spent doing it. Then she'd left again. He didn't regret not driving all over LA in the middle of the night to try and find her. He knew that had been the right thing to do. But when she'd turned up _again_ a few weeks later, it had been a relief in a way. For awhile, she would stay put. For awhile, he wouldn't have to wonder.

He just... wanted to know that she was all right, even if that meant that her presence in her life was going to be a never-ending revolving door of comings and goings and accusations and amends. For now, at least.

"Rusty?"

"I said you could call."

"Okay," she said quickly. "Yeah, okay. I'll call you. As much as I can."

As much as she could, in this case, meant as much as she _wanted_ to, so Rusty wasn't holding out much hope.

"I'll think about you every day," she told him. "I always did."

"Okay," he said.

There was a long silence.

"I love you, Rusty." She said it like she was afraid he wouldn't say it back.

He was tempted not to, but any time he talked to his mom was also maybe the _last_ time he ever talked to her. "I love you too."

She hung up without saying goodbye, but then, she'd never been very good at those.

Rusty slowly lowered the phone. He crammed it back into his pocket and stared through the windshield, blinking hard and chewing on his bottom lip.

So she was gone again, he told himself. Was that even such a surprise? And she was right. He had another mom now. One who thought it was her job to worry about _him_ , instead of the other way around.

He still wanted to throw up.

Rusty leaned forward, the steering wheel supporting his arms as he buried his head in his hands, his eyes squeezed shut as he waited for his heart to stop pounding.


	5. Contact

**Crossroads**

 **Chapter V: Contact  
**

"My client—"

It was Jack.

"—has had a very trying and stressful day—"

Of course it was Jack.

"—and as she is _not_ under arrest, nor do you have any real reason to hold her—"

Of all the lawyers Jennifer Marks could have called, she'd picked _Jack._

"She's leaving now to be at home with her family," he said. "But she is willing to sit down at a later date—tomorrow, even—to answer questions about Regina Torres, in the presence of her attorney—me."

It was just the two of them in the hallway. Lieutenant Tao was waiting inside with Jennifer while Sharon and Jack conferred outside. Sharon stood with her arms folded and her eyes narrowed, adopting a posture that she knew from experience Jack found intimidating. It was working, sort of; Jack was hovering closer than she would have liked, but he was speaking in a reasonable tone and keeping his arms confined near his body.

"The sooner—"

"This is a very generous offer," Jack went on. "I advised her against it. She should be suing you for harassment."

"I'm sure you'll be representing her then too," Sharon said. It was a cheap, satisfying shot, but loathe as she was to admit it, he had a point. "Tomorrow. We'll be in touch about scheduling."

He smiled, satisfied. "Always a pleasure, Sharon."

"Jack." She turned to go.

"Sharon."

She almost kept walking, but his voice had changed. Softened. She halted mid-stride, half-turning towards him.

"Ginny Ryan's kid," Jack said, and Sharon cringed inwardly. "That was you?"

She nodded.

Jack let out a low whistle. "Who'd've thought, huh?"

She certainly hadn't.

"I guess it's been a long time since law school," he went on. "People change, and all..."

"Mm," said Sharon.

"Still." Jack shook his head. "Hey, you remember Mary Beth?"

The sudden shift jarred her, but a fuzzy image of a freckled redhead came to Sharon's mind.

"I haven't spoken to her since she moved to Seattle," she said. When had that been? It had to have ben before they were married, because she hadn't been at the wedding with the rest of their old friends.

"No, that was Marla," Jack said. "I haven't talked to her in ages. Mary Beth Aguilar. Short little thing. Big hair."

"Oh," Sharon said, the picture in her mind shifting to a petite woman with long dark hair and a big laugh. "I remember."

"She's a judge now too," Jack said. "Just heard. Up near Sacramento."

"Oh, good for her," Sharon said. "Have you spoken to her?"

He'd gotten most of their friends in the separation, though she couldn't see that he'd kept many of them.

"It's been awhile, but I've got her email," he said. "If you want to pass on your congratulations."

"I would," she said. "Thank you."

"Oh." Jack was grinning again. "I hear that you and Andy Flynn..."

Had he done all that reminiscing just to get her guard down? Sharon felt herself tense, more annoyed with herself for falling for it than with him for trying. "Jack—"

"No, hey, Sharon," he protested, holding up his hands. "I just wanted to say congratulations. You should be happy."

She folded her arms again. That was enough for one day. "You must have other clients you need to see."

"As a matter of fact, I do." He gave her a cheeky grin. "There's one fellow suing his arresting officers for battery."

"I'd hate for you to keep him waiting," Sharon said. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

"Well... ta for now, then, Sharon," he said. "Say hi to Rusty for me. And job well done on that little project of his."

"You watched the vlog?"

"He was sharing the link all over the internet, it wasn't hard to find." Jack shrugged. "His delivery could use some work, but he knew his stuff. I didn't think he'd actually identify the girl."

She'd been skeptical in the beginning, too. "I'll let him know," she said. "Have a good afternoon, Jack."

She was passing the elevators on her way back to the murder room when they opened, revealing Andy inside.

"Hey," she said, slowing, and waited for him to step out.

"Hey." He gave her a sideways look as he fell into step beside her. "You okay?"

"Fine," she said, more curtly than intended. Andy raised an eyebrow, and Sharon gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm all right. It seems that Ms. Marks has hired _Jack_ as her attorney."

"He say something to you?"

"He congratulated me on our... relationship." Sharon snorted despite herself, and Andy chuckled beside her. "It was fine, Andy, honestly. What did Morales say?"

"That no one predicted there'd be an increase in heroin overdoses the week that three of his colleages were on vacation," Andy said. "And that if Provenza was going to complain about it, he was welcome to put on some gloves and help. He moved us up to the front of the line, though, and said he'll try to get to us tomorrow."

Complications, and now setbacks.

"Okay," Sharon said, though she didn't like how the killer now had another day's head start on them. "Where _is_ Provenza now?"

"Lunch with Patrice," he said. "He figured it'd be all right since we were waiting on everything, but he left his phone on in case you need him."

"No," she said. "He's right. Let's all take a break while we can."

"Speaking of breaks..." Andy nudged her arm gently with his elbow. "There's this new place down the street."

"Oh?" she said, feeling herself smile.

"I hear they have great falafel."

"Hm," she said, carefully sliding her arm through his. "Maybe you ought to pick us up some."

"I think we can manage that."

* * *

"Hey, Mom."

Sharon stopped, pausing with her purse still halfway up her arm. Slowly, she turned, surveying Rusty from her place near the door. He sat on the couch, his back to her.

"Hey," she said slowly.

Rusty didn't call her Mom. There'd been those couple of days last year when he'd said it teasingly, but he'd dropped it soon afterwards. Sharon hadn't thought he would say it again.

And now that he had, she was torn between joy (how could she _not_ feel it?) and sorrow, because even without the flat tone he spoke in, she knew that this coming on the heels of his mother's release from jail was a sign that something had gone wrong.

Sharon stared at the back of his head, weighing what to say next. He'd have known that she would read into that, but he also didn't like to open up right away.

"I don't know about you, but I've had a very frustrating day."

"Yeah." Rusty laughed, too watery for her liking.

She frowned, glad that he couldn't see her, and then she finally set down her purse and went to sit. She took the armchair to give him some space, and bent to remove her shoes.

"I talked to TJ."

She hadn't expected him to start with that. Sharon looked up. "Oh, did you?"

"Kind of." He was staring hard at his lap, but she could see that his expression was unhappy. "He hasn't answered yet, but... I just wanted you to know that I did that."

"I'm glad," she said quietly, setting her shoes beside the chair. "I know that was difficult."

He shrugged.

"I ran into Jack today," she said. "He says hello."

"At work?"

"Yes," she said. "My witness hired him as her lawyer."

Rusty scowled at her. "I thought witnesses didn't _get_ lawyers."

"There were... extenuating circumstances."

" _I_ had extenuating circumstances."

Sometimes, he just liked to argue with her.

"You did," she allowed. "But different ones."

"I guess." His heart wasn't in it tonight. "My... mom, I guess. She called me."

She didn't need to ask to know that it hadn't gone well, because he'd never been ambivalent before about Sharon Beck being his mother.

"Oh?"

"She left. _Again_."

She rose, and went to sit beside him on the couch. Rusty shied away when she reached out to him, so she folded her hands in her lap instead, and quietly asked, "What happened?"

The story came out slowly, with frequent pauses for Rusty to collect himself. There was a high, slightly hysterical edge to his voice, and when he stopped to breathe, his hands clenched into shaky fists.

When he finished, he slumped down on the couch, and Sharon watched him silently, thinking about how to voice her feelings.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Rusty shrugged. "I guess I should be used to it by now, right?"

Sharon sighed. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I understand what you're mother is trying to do here."

His head turned toward her, but he said nothing.

"I think that your mother is beginning to understand how much she's hurt you," she said. "And if she's going to make this work, she's going to need to learn how to live with that."

"What, now you're on _her_ side?"

"I'm always on your side, honey," she said. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be hurt or even angry, and I know that this seems like very little, very late, but... to me, it sounds like she's trying. What you do with that is up to you."

"I wish she'd tried sooner," he said. "Except... I don't, really."

She understood what he was trying to say.

"I'm not telling you what to do," Sharon reiterated. "I only want you to make the most informed decision that you can."

"I know," he said. He paused. "I told her it was okay if she called me."

He sounded almost apologetic.

"Is it?"

"I just—I want to know where she is," Rusty said. "I know that she wasn't a great mom, but I still..."

"You want to know that she's okay," she finished. "You don't need to explain that to me."

"Yeah," Rusty said. "Hey, Sharon?"

She looked at him.

"I was kind of thinking, earlier..." He frowned. "I don't know how to explain."

"Just try."

"Mariana," he said. "Alice. Once we knew her story, everything made sense, right? What she was doing in Vegas, why she ran away from Gus."

"Yes," Sharon said slowly. "I suppose it did."

"I want to understand my mom," he said. "I want to know what happened to her, but I can't ask her."

"Okay," Sharon said. She was beginning to see where he was heading with this, and she wasn't sure that she liked it. "What are you proposing?"

"I want to find her family," Rusty said. Before she could reply, he quickly added, "Not to—I don't, like, need more family. I just... I want to understand why my mom is... how she is."

"A couple of things," she said. "First, your mother's family _is_ your family, and if you want to have a relationship with them, it's up to you." That sounded like the right thing to say, even if she didn't quite feel it.

"'cause that worked out so well with Daniel?" Rusty gave her a sideways look. "They threw my mom out, Sharon. Because of me. I don't need them."

"That's another thing," she said. "Rusty... the answers that you're looking for, I'm not sure they can provide for you."

"I know," he said. "I still want to try."

Sharon tried to think of a time when contact with a biological relative hadn't hurt him, and failed. "Okay," she said. "How are you planning on finding them?"

"I know a little about them," he said. "It all came from my mom, though, so... who knows if any of it's true. But I found Mariana with less."

"That's true," she said. "One more thing."

He looked at her.

"I would like you to let me know _before_ you contact them," she said. "Especially if you're planning on visiting in person."

"I wouldn't—" Rusty hesitated. "Maybe I would."

"I want you to promise me."

"Okay," he said. "I'll tell you what I'm doing, I swear." A pause. "So... this is all okay with you, or...?"

"I'm not sure that I like it," Sharon said. She was pretty sure that she didn't. "But I understand why you want to do this, and it's your right to do it regardless of how I feel. As long as you are _safe._ "

He nodded, but she wasn't very reassured.

Dennis had been right about the need for her to step back from Rusty's investigation into Mariana Wallace's identity, but she didn't like some of the risks that he had taken without her knowledge. At least he'd taken TJ with him to meet with Gus, but if he were meeting his biological family... She knew that he wouldn't take her, and she could already hear his excuses for not talking to Lieutenant Provenza.

She just didn't want to see him get hurt. Again.

Or worse.

"So," she said. "What do you know about your mother's family?"

"Not much." He shrugged. "Just what my mom told me, and... she was usually... she didn't talk about them when she was sober."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I think her father... or maybe her brother, I'm not sure. I think she named me after someone," he said. "She used to talk about Tommy."

She'd wondered before, if Rusty had been named in honor of someone. The name hadn't been popular in ninety-six, and it wasn't what she wouldn't expected Sharon Beck to have picked otherwise. Sharon wasn't sure what she _would_ have expected Sharon Beck to pick, but... not Russell Thomas.

"It's not much to go on," she cautioned him. "But you're right, you found Mariana."

She just hoped that whatever he found didn't derail him from the progress he'd made in other areas of his life.

"And..." She reached out, nudging his chin up with a fingertip. "I am here, if you need me."

"I know."

"Don't forget it."

Rusty smiled a little, lopsidedly. "I won't."

He probably would, but Sharon felt herself smile too and, leaning closer, she kissed his forehead just above an eyebrow. "Good."

* * *

Rusty went to his room soon after dinner. Homework already, he said, but Sharon thought he just wanted to be alone for awhile. She just nodded though, and reached out to let her fingertips brush against his shoulders as he passed her. "Good night, honey."

Sharon didn't know what she expected when Rusty paused, but him turning and his arms suddenly encircling her waist wasn't it. Surprising as it was, though, she held on tight, closing her eyes as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"Night, Mom," he said in her ear, and then he quickly let go.

She smiled as she watched him walk away. She wasn't sure that would last, but she hoped that it did.

The room was quiet with Rusty gone. Sharon felt in the pocket of her cardigan for her phone. Andy would call her later tonight, but his dinners with Nicole sometimes became family evenings if he stayed for a movie and to help put the kids to bed.

That was fine, because there had been a thought in the back of her mind ever since her talk with Jack earlier, and with no one likely to distract her, she could finally do something about it.

The phone number had been written in her address book for years, occasionally updated but never dialed. Sharon heard updates through her mother, who sometimes slipped a "you'll never guess who I ran into at the store today—Barbara, you remember her? You were so close with her daughter" into their conversations. Sharon always asked that her mother send her regards, and her mother passed along a hello every now and again, but when it came time to write Christmas cards, Sharon somehow found reason not to send one to her once-best friend.

Now, though, after everything that had happened recently...

Sharon almost changed her mind once the phone started ringing.

"Hello?" The voice was the same, Sharon thought. Older, a little deeper, but the she heard it and was taken back forty years.

"Is this Marilyn?"

There was a long pause, and then an incredulous, " _Sharon_?"

Inexplicably, Sharon found herself blinking faster.

"Yes," she said. "It's me."

"Sharon O'Dwyer." There was a pause. "Or did you keep Raydor?"

"It's Raydor still," she said. She'd thought about it, but she'd been Sharon Raydor for decades now. It was the name she'd used her entire professional career, and she shared it with two of her children. She'd gotten attached to the name. "My mother told you, then?"

Marilyn laughed. "Mine, actually, but I saw your parents when we went to visit my family last summer. They look good."

"My mother mentioned that to me," Sharon said. "The kids and I were there a few weeks later."

Marilyn Madden had been her best, and sometimes her only friend, from the first day of kindergarten until the day that they'd left for college. Sharon had gone to LA; Marilyn to Philadelphia. At first, there had been calls and letters, and when they'd both gone home for summers and Christmases, they had been as inseparable as before.

"How _are_ your kids?" Marilyn asked. "I think the last time I saw you—no, you must've had Ricky, because both of the girls were born by then. Emily's got to be thirty by now, right? Is she still dancing?"

Marilyn had been Sharon's maid of honor, and there had been no question about anyone else being Emily's godmother. They'd still been close then.

"Almost," Sharon said. "Her birthday's in November."

"That little girl?"

"I know," Sharon said. "She's a soloist now, and Ricky's a software engineer. Then..." She paused. "I don't know how much you've heard, about my third kid."

"My mother made it sound like you'd had a _baby_." Marilyn snorted. "I told her I didn't care _how_ good you look, that ship has sailed."

"Years ago." Sharon relaxed, leaning back into the couch as she laughed too. "No, I adopted Rusty. He..." This could be a very long story. "He was a witness in a homicide investigation."

"Wait, murder?" Marilyn said. "I thought you worked in IA."

It looked like they were going to start at the beginning, then. "Do you still drink merlot?"

"One glass a night," Marilyn responded promptly. "Should I have it now?"

Sharon laughed. "I'd split the bottle with you, if you were here."

She didn't usually drink three glasses of wine on a Monday evening, but once she started talking, Sharon found that it was a difficult story to shorten. There was more to the story than just Rusty, and she had to backtrack quite a bit to include Stroh's history with the LAPD, the many lawsuits against Chief Johnson, and her own complicated friendship with Brenda.

"I hadn't heard _any_ of that," Marilyn said, when Sharon culminated the story with Stroh's arrest. "What happened after?"

"Chief Johnson retired from the LAPD after this case," Sharon said. "She works out of DC now. I inherited most of her team when I took over the unit. Rusty came to live with me, and Stroh, well..." She frowned, twirling her nearly-empty glass between her fingertips. "I wish I could tell you he was serving a life sentence, but he escaped from custody. Last I heard, he'd been sighted in Crete."

If she thought about that too much, she'd go right back to sleeping in half-hour increments and jumping at the slightest noise.

"Crete," Marilyn repeated. "If anyone in that story deserves to be on a beach in the Mediterranean, it's you."

Sharon laughed again. "You know I've always wanted to go to Greece."

"It's not Greece, but I've been planning a trip for a couple of years," Marilyn said. "Portugal, then Spain and France and Italy."

"When are you going?"

Marilyn laughed. "In another decade, maybe. At first I thought, maybe when Sam graduated, I'd take both girls. But then she got an internship and Mandy couldn't get the time off work so we put it off, and then Mandy needed some help buying a house, and then the car broke down... Maybe when I retire. We'll all go. Me and the kids and grandkids." She paused. "Mandy's having a baby."

"What?" Sharon straightened up.

"A girl," Marilyn said. "Due in November. I keep thinking, she's not old enough. I'm not old enough."

"How old is she now?"

"Thirty-two."

Sharon started to laugh again.

"It'll be your turn someday," Marilyn said. "Unless—"

"No," Sharon said. "Not yet. Not soon, either, I don't think." As far as she knew, none of her kids were dating. "But someday."

"It's funny," Marilyn said. "I've been working on this album for Mandy. I've been looking for pictures from when I was pregnant with her and finding those is a story unto itself, but I did finally find the album and you were at the baby shower and I saw that photo and thought, I should talk to Sharon. My mother asks me all the time if we're still in touch."

"Mine too," Sharon admitted.

"And... I almost called you, last year." Marilyn hesitated. "When Rob and I split up, well... you need friends, when you're going through a divorce. I just wasn't sure that I was the right friend, when it had been so long.

"I'm sorry," she added, when Sharon didn't reply. "Forget I said that. It's been so nice to hear your voice again."

"No," Sharon said. "No, you haven't upset me. This is nice."

The divorce itself had been fine. Where she could've used a friend was during all of the years before that. Years that Sharon could now admit she had spent isolated from other people, because Jack's behavior had been embarrassing to explain to other people. She'd distanced herself from a lot of people, during her separation. Some of them had taken Jack's side—they'd been more his friends than hers, anyway, but others... there had been a lot of people she hadn't wanted to face, and when she'd had to work twice as hard to keep her head above water, it had been easy to lose touch with them.

The next close friend she'd had was Gavin, and she hadn't met him until years after the fact, when the kids were in college and Jack was out of the picture far more than he was in it. (Thinking of Gavin now, Sharon felt another twinge of guilt, because it had been far too long she'd last spoken with _him_ , too.)

"I really am glad that you called," Marilyn said.

"I am too." Sharon drained the last of her wine, and set the glass to the side. "How much time do you have? I want to hear about you too."

"For you, I have all night."


End file.
